For Want of a Silence
by Pallan Minerva
Summary: Kiritsugu Emiya was a tired schoolteacher who had a thousand-yard-stare and an equal number of demons whispering in his ear at all hours of the day. He had tried everything to keep them out, but as it turns out, all he really needed was a kid.


The pathway looked clear. There was no one within eyesight. He specifically chose a dug away spot so there was a small likelihood of someone stumbling upon him, and if they did... well, he wasn't ashamed of this habit. He simply wanted to keep away from the kids. They didn't deserve to be hurt by the devil dancing in his ashtray.

He dug out a pack of cigarettes and tapped one out.

_Click, fwump._

Inhale the fumes of death to forget the memories and drown out the voices...

"Hey, old man, what'cha doin'?"

...exhale and get interrupted by one of his students. He sighed.

"Something that you shouldn't imitate," he said, turning to see the bright eyes of Shirou Sayjou. "Were you following me?"

"...no?" The boy's gaze flitted to the side, avoiding his stare. He let the silence settle down to pressure a confession, but despite the small amount of squirming, he received nothing. His skills had really rusted over time.

_Can't hear a little kid sneaking up, can't make him say he did... losing my touch._

He leaned back, took another puff of the cigarette, and looked to the nearby pond where a few ducklings and their mother were gathering. A picture right out of a storybook.

"How come you aren't with the others?" he asked.

"Ms. Einzbern got mad at me and Shinji—"

"Shinji and I."

"—Shinji and I because he tried to stuff gum in his sister's hair and I punched him. So we're not allowed on the playground right now. I asked her if I could sit with you and she said that was fine."

He huffed in amusement. This kid had acted as an unknowing pawn in this little flirting game between him and the beautiful albino teacher. He'd have to figure out a way to get her back.

"I see," he said, taking another puff of the cigarette. Not great, but not terrible either. He could almost ignore the feeling of dust settling inside his lungs. He made sure to breathe away from Shirou.

"Why do you always look so sad, Mr. Emiya?" the boy asked innocently.

That caused him to cough on the inhale he was taking from the cigarette. Was he really _that_ obvious?

"What makes you think I'm sad?" He put on one of his calm smiles that was his best imitation of what... _Norikata_ used to give him.

"Because when you smile like that, you don't look happy." The boy tilted his head, his expression neither accusing nor pitying. "You look like mom after she fights with dad and then puts me to bed. She's sad too, but she's always trying to look happy."

That caused the smile to drop a little bit. He could... sort of give advice in many different areas, but he couldn't give any help to a kid with troubles at the home. His own parental trauma was of a much different make than most.

"Well, Shirou..." he started, turning his gaze back to the pond, taking another breath from his cigarette. "People are sad for different reasons. You've been sad before, haven't you?"

"Mhm." The kid nodded. "When Rin pushes me away from her sister and says that I'm gross, even though I just want to see Sakura smile."

Kiritsugu was able to let a natural smile appear because of that, though it didn't last for long.

"I've... done a lot of things that were wrong," he continued. "Hurt a lot of people because I thought that I was doing something right. Now that I know I was wrong, it makes me feel bad a lot."

"Why?"

He sighed, breathing in the tobacco.

"Because when you get old like me, sometimes it gets a little too quiet in your head, and the thing that starts talking that isn't you is too loud to ignore."

"So then you don't let it get quiet," the boy replied. "You talk louder than it."

He chuckled.

"Sometimes you don't have the strength to shout in your own head. It's all really... tiring."

"Then get other people to shout at it for you."

He looked down, and the boy's face was just as neutral as before, if a little more curious.

"How do I do that?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"You talk to them about the voice," Shirou continued, "and ask them to shout at it because you can't."

"Who am I supposed to talk to?"

"Don't you have friends?"

_Ouch, kid. _

"A few," he grimaced, "but they're not around very often."

"Then make new ones and talk to them," the boy nodded.

"What if they don't want to hear about it?"

"Then they're not good friends." For the first time, Shirou's expression changed. His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. "Dad always said that anyone who isn't there for you when you need them isn't your friend. That friends have your back, always."

"Huh." He digested those words slowly.

"Shirou! Mr. Emiya!" He looked down the path to his right and saw his fellow teacher, her red eyes reflecting the sunlight, waving over at them. "It's time to go!"

Shirou hopped off the bench and started walking towards her without another word. He needed a little more time to think, and to find a place to snuff out his cigarette.

_Did I just discuss philosophy with an 8-year-old?_


End file.
